


Through the Woods

by frith_in_thorns



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, evil HYDRA creatures, hc_bingo, lost in the wilderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frith_in_thorns/pseuds/frith_in_thorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shot down during an emergency evac, far from safety and with a hunt on their trail, Natasha and Sam have to keep each other alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



> This is a rather late birthday present for sholio. It fills my hc_bingo square for "hostile climate".

"We're surrounded," Natasha said, in a not-particularly-concerned tone. 

Sam didn't ask her if she was sure. He was highly trained, but Natasha had skills bred bone-deep into her that he could only dream of. When she made a statement like that, it was accurate.

He also knew better than to take her apparent lack of concern at face value. Either he was finally getting better at reading her or she was beginning to let her masks relax a fraction, but he could see the tension she wasn't allowing into her voice. In this hostile urban territory, with the snow blowing into the metal lean-to they were crouching in, she was very concerned indeed.

"Ideas?" Sam asked. This was Natasha's mission; he hadn't even been allowed to know all of its aims. _Sneak in and see if HYDRA's really building a secret base _was about the summary he'd been given. Basically, watch Natasha's back while she did… what she did.__

__"We should get out of here," Natasha said. She looked over at Sam, and her expression went from impassive to grim. "Our intel was seriously bad. This isn't a research base; it's a _hive_ , and I think they were expecting us."_ _

__His training had ensured that fear was paired with an adrenaline surge. Sam took a deep breath, taking his gloved hands out of his pockets where they'd been curled for warmth. "I take it ground routes out are a no-go, then."_ _

__She flashed him a quick smile. "I wouldn't want you to get bored."_ _

__"Considerate of you." Sam checked the heft of the wings on his back — unnecessary, since he would have noticed before now if anything was amiss. But it never hurt to be thorough. "You know we'll draw fire as soon as we're in the open."_ _

__She raised an eyebrow slightly. Of course she knew that. "Head south. You want your arms free?"_ _

__"Yeah. I might be able to lay down some covering fire."_ _

__Natasha nodded, and adjusted the sit of her pistols so that they could more easily be drawn from their holsters. "Use mine if you need."_ _

__Sam nodded. "We ready? I can launch us from just outside the shelter."_ _

__"Good," Natasha said. "I'm tired of walking."_ _

__It was a pretty awful joke, as most of hers were, but Sam still grinned. Part of it was from again knowing exactly what he had to do — he was the one in charge of emergency evacs. "Move out, then."_ _

__They had practised this. As soon as they were on open ground Sam stopped and waited for Natasha to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing her chin into his shoulder so as not to block his view. She hooked her legs around his. "Go."_ _

__No matter how dire the situation, the first rush of flight as Sam's wings propelled him into the sky was always exhilarating. However, this was one of the times when the feeling was short-lived; even with the wind roaring past his ears he could hear the gunfire. With his own weapons in his hands he fired blindly down and behind, hoping to drive back at least a few of the HYDRA agents into cover._ _

__Sleet stung his exposed skin. Sam glanced quickly at his wrist-compass — there was a reason he'd taken to wearing the thing on top of his coat — and wheeled sharply west at full speed, tarmac beneath him turning to dark trees as he performed evasive manoeuvres. He could turn south once they were out of sight of the base._ _

__Whoever shot him must have had a long-range weapon. A sniper, maybe, up on a rooftop._ _

__He didn't realise instantly that he was hit, taking the sudden buffet as a twist of air currents. But then a high mechanical whine began to issue from the wing mechanism, and the controls locked up._ _

__"We're going down!" he shouted, hoping Natasha could hear him over the wind. He fought for control and got a sluggish response. They were losing altitude fast, but still gaining distance. He struggled to keep them in the air for as long as he could. Each additional kilometre he could put between them and HYDRA might be crucial._ _

__He was too focused on that objective to search properly for a landing site. But maybe it wouldn't have made a difference — it was all pine forest below them, with no convenient clearings. Sam had no choice but to bank as sharply as he could, gritting his teeth as he fought with the damaged wing controls._ _

__They hit a tree. Thin branches whipped at Sam's face and hands as he twisted at the last second, trying to let the damaged mechanism on his back absorb the impact. All the breath was driven from his lungs, and he had no idea how many branches hit him as he crashed down through them to the forest floor._ _

__It was quiet there._ _

__Eventually, Sam realised that he should probably get up. His mouth was filled with blood and decaying pine needles, and he spat into the dirt. The taste lingered as he lifted his head and pushed himself to his knees. It hurt. Miraculously, his wings had retracted successfully, so he didn't need to struggle against them too._ _

__A light dusting of snow was beginning to find its way through the gap they'd smashed in the canopy. Everywhere else the unbroken brown carpet of dead needles stretched out into the dimness of the forest._ _

__Sam performed some experimental stretches. He could tell without looking that he was a mass of bruises, and his left leg in particular hurt like hell, but he had been lucky enough to escape serious injury. His face and hands were bleeding from shallow cuts that must have been caused by twigs whipping past him._ _

__The assessment took only seconds. Sam was aware all the time that Natasha had yet to similarly get up. She still lay where she had come to a stop, turned away from him. "Nat? You okay?"_ _

__She made an irritated noise, which at least reassured him that she was conscious. As he moved towards her she finally sat up, in one forced motion. "Did you see any pursuit?" she asked. Her jaw clamped shut on the last word._ _

__"No," Sam said. "I bet it's on its way, though. Why don't you tell me how badly you're hurt?"_ _

__She grimaced. "I took a bullet," she said, sounding more annoyed about it than anything. "It's still inside."_ _

__"Are you going to let me take a look?"_ _

__She started to shrug one shoulder, and instantly stopped herself. "My back," she said._ _

__Sam managed not to demand why the _hell_ she'd sat up knowing there was a bullet lodged in her back. She knew her own body. "Lean forward," he said, as he shuffled around her. _ _

__Sure enough, his immediate fear of spinal injury turned out to be a false alarm. The bleeding hole in the back of her suit was over her shoulder blade; presumably the bullet was lodged in that bone. "I thought you guys wore stuff that stops bullets," he commented, reaching for the first-aid supplies in his thigh pocket. There was a pair of neoprene gloves in the kit, and he pulled them on._ _

__"It restricts my movement. Unlike Steve, I try not to put myself in the middle of a firefight in the first place," Natasha said. Her breathing hitched as Sam touched her. "And you're one of _us guys_ now, remember?"_ _

__"I haven't reached the crazy nonchalance level yet," Sam said. "Look, I need to get a field dressing on this. Can you —?"_ _

__"Sure." She partly unzipped the front of her suit, so that Sam could ease the stiff material down from her shoulders. She made no sound as he did so, probably because she didn't let herself breathe until it was over._ _

__The black tank top she was wearing underneath was sodden with blood. He snipped it straight down from the neckline and folded back the edges of the cloth, finally allowing him access to the wound. It looked as neat as they ever got; a small hole which was continuously leaking blood. All the skin around it was smeared red, and he did his best to clean it with a sterile wipe. "When did they get you?" he asked, tearing the seal on a dressing._ _

__"Right as we were getting into the air," she said._ _

__Sam raised his eyebrows, even though she couldn't see his expression. "I'm impressed you kept holding on." More than impressed; astounded, really, although he should probably be used to pretty unbelievable feats by now. But it was different with Natasha — he had to keep reminding himself that she _didn't_ have superpowers, or augmented strength or healing, or anything like that. Unless you counted sheer stubbornness, in which case she probably _would_ qualify._ _

__No reply was forthcoming as Sam fixed the thick dressing down and taped it in place. The injury wasn't in a position he could apply a pressure bandage to, but her suit was rigid and close-fitting enough that it should do make a fairly decent substitute._ _

__As soon as he'd finished helping her get the material back in place and refastened, she was getting grimly to her feet. Sam packed away his supplies and followed her, stumbling slightly as he put his weight on his injured leg._ _

__Of course, Natasha noticed. "Are you okay to walk?" she asked._ _

__Sam half-laughed. "Yep." What would the alternative be, after all?_ _

__She smirked at him like she was reading his thoughts. "Good. I'd hate to leave you behind."_ _

__"Yeah, you'd have to get Tony to fly you places instead," Sam said, and was rewarded with an amused snort._ _

__Once they began walking they made better progress than Sam had feared. The currently-useless wings were a dead weight on his back, but they hadn't even discussed leaving them behind. If he could find some sort of stick to lean on he would do better, but a pine forest was the wrong place to find a thick, load-bearing staff of the sort he needed. He limped on determinedly without, aware of how Natasha was trudging beside him without complaining despite being in at least as much and probably greater pain. A resinous tang took up residence in his nose and mouth from the decomposing needles underfoot._ _

__Without Sam's compass they would have been hopelessly lost. All the trees looked identical in the dim light, and what little they could see of the sky through the canopy was a uniform grey._ _

__It wasn't long until they heard the first helicopter. Sam went stock-still._ _

__"Keep moving," Natasha said. "They won't see us through the branches."_ _

__"What about if they have thermal imaging?"_ _

__"Then we're screwed anyway. Keep walking."_ _

__She was right, and he knew it. Still, it was hard to force himself to keep moving with the sound of the enemy rotors overhead. His reactions had been honed in the Afghani desert, and he had to push against the instincts which screamed at him that crouching down and staying motionless was the only way to avoid being spotted. He focused on breathing steadily, in and out._ _

__The chopper passed nearly overhead, but didn't stop. Natasha kept walking steadily without looking up, as if she was entirely untroubled by it, but this time Sam had no problem disbelieving her act._ _

__He was also being forced to reassess his assumption that he had escaped real injury. Red-hot shocks of pain were shooting up his leg whenever his foot hit the ground. There was almost certainly a fracture, which he was only making worse by walking on._ _

__The helicopter faded out and then circled back around, but never got as close as it had on its first pass. Sam had never had time to make his course correction while airborne — hopefully that was still confusing them._ _

__"Stop," Natasha said, abruptly. Sam did so immediately, leaning heavily on the nearest tree to take his weight completely off his injured leg for a moment. One-handedly, he unfastened his water flask from his belt and took a deep swig._ _

__Natasha wasn't looking at him — she was staring back the way they had come. "Water?" Sam asked her, softly._ _

__She stepped closer to accept the flask, while keeping her attention fixed on the shadows beneath the trees. For all that there was almost no low-growing vegetation, visibility was low. The spaces between the trunks gave one the illusion of being able to see further than was the reality, but the dark spindly branches made it hard to see more than a handful of metres._ _

__Sam took the opportunity to look carefully at Natasha, instead. She was very white, her face almost translucent in the gloom and shining with sweat. When she tried to hand the flask back to him he didn't immediately accept, urging her to drink some more first._ _

__"How are you doing?" she asked, quietly. As he glanced towards her she quirked her lips. "I'll be honest if you will."_ _

__"You should be honest with the field medic anyway," Sam pointed out. "There's nothing smart about dying because you wanted to prove how macho you are." He had seen it happen. More than once._ _

__He had the sense of Natasha recoiling in reaction to his words, although physically she barely moved. But her face went blank. "I know my limits," she said, frostily._ _

__Sam sighed. "Everyone says that," he said. He'd encountered this attitude too. "But the reason for your body producing stuff like adrenaline is to make you ignore where your limits actually are. _Particularly_ when you're playing tough."_ _

__"I'm not one of your soldier squadmates," Natasha snapped. "I've been learning what my body's capable of for a damn sight longer than you've been a medic."_ _

__There were plenty of things Sam could have countered with, but none of them would help to defuse the situation. He could ask Steve later for advice on the dangerous territory he'd inadvertently stepped into, but in the meantime they had HYDRA on their tail. "Shall we move out?" he suggested._ _

__Natasha was watching the forest again. "I think we're being tracked."_ _

__Her flare of temper was instantly cast aside. "Can you tell how many?" Sam asked, careful to keep his voice down._ _

__She shook her head. "I don't think it's people. Something smaller. Dogs, maybe."_ _

__"Are there bears in these woods?" Sam asked, and was relieved when she rolled her eyes. It seemed like she, too, had been distracted from being angry at him._ _

__Sam continued straining his eyes into the gloom, and finally thought he saw a flicker of movement. As Natasha had said, his instincts told him it wasn't a human. But with dogs on their trail, their HYDRA owners wouldn't be far behind. He caught another flick of motion in a slightly different direction. Definitely several of them._ _

__As if they realised they'd been detected, they picked that moment to charge._ _

__Also, they weren't dogs._ _

__Sam knew the importance of not giving away their position, but it still took every ounce of his training not to start shooting blindly with his sidearm. The brindled creatures were sort of dog-shaped, but they had far too many needle-sharp teeth, and long slashing claws. Their snarls and growls came out in low rumbles which were somehow more terrifying than the expected barking and yapping would have been._ _

__Natasha slid duel knives out of their belt-sheaths in one fluid motion — wicked-looking things with upward-curving points and blood-channels. An assassin's weapons. "Get behind me," she ordered._ _

__"You've got to be kidding." Sam had his own knife out by now, a serrated blade that was longer and sturdier than hers, if not as elegantly lethal. She didn't argue; just formed up with him back-to-back a moment before the not-dogs reached them and everything narrowed to teeth and claws and wide bloodshot eyes rolling back over slobbering mouths._ _

__Sam slashed and stabbed, unable to see or think of anything beyond the not-dogs' attack. Their hot, rancid breath choked him and he was gasping with fear at their relentless violence._ _

__Claws raked his leg and he kicked out at the not-dog there, for another to bite at his left hand. He swung the knife around hard and it lodged in muscle and bone which resisted as he wrenched it back out again. _Fuck, this is not what I signed up for…__ _

__It was a shock to run out of targets. The last not-dog dropped, bleeding, and he brought his boot down on its skull again and again. "It's dead," Natasha panted, wearily, and her presence at his back, which he had been half-aware of throughout the fight, suddenly fell away._ _

___Fell_ being the right word. When he turned she was kneeling on the ground with her arms supporting her, head hanging forward so that her hair covered her face. "Hey," he said, and then stumbled himself, exhaustion catching up with him. He was abruptly aware of how many gashes and bites he'd taken from the not-dogs — they all burned like fire._ _

__"I'm okay," Natasha half-whispered. "Just… twenty seconds."_ _

__"Water," Sam said. He unhooked the bottle and took a sip himself. She took it with a shaking hand, tipping her head back to drink._ _

__It had been twenty seconds. She pushed herself off from the ground, and straightened up. Not fast. Her face was grey, and bleeding from a diagonal claw-slash. "You don't look so good yourself," she accused, correctly reading Sam's mind._ _

__He didn't disagree. In fact, he would have traded most of his worldly possessions for a shot of morphine and a soft bed. But there was unfortunately still the problem of HYDRA, who were unlikely to assume that the not-dogs had killed them and go back home._ _

__Without either of them needing to say it aloud, they began walking again. Or hobbling. Sam could barely put weight on his injured leg now, and Natasha kept stumbling dizzily, her usual grace overwhelmed by the effects of blood loss. He didn't try again to question her condition. It was clear enough, and there wasn't anything they could do about it._ _

__It wasn't long before they stopped again, each silently pretending they were resting for the other's benefit. Sam let himself slide down to the forest floor using the support of the nearest tree. After a moment's hesitation, Natasha followed suit. She leaned forward, pressing her head down between her knees._ _

__The idea of getting up again seemed pointless. They were in no shape to out-walk anyone, let alone a dangerously competent militant organisation._ _

__"We need to get your wings working," Natasha said._ _

__Sam once again had the uncomfortable feeling that she had learned to read his mind. But in this case it was no good. "They're shot. Literally. And I'm no engineer. We're grounded."_ _

__"We've got to fix them," Natasha said. Very simply, without any particular emotion. "Take them off."_ _

__Sam opened his mouth to argue, then shrugged, thinking better of it. He pulled the wing pack painfully off over his badly wrenched muscles and laid it on the ground, bullet hole upwards._ _

__He wasn't even surprised when Natasha turned out to have a comprehensive set of tools in one of her pouches. In barely any time she had the torn wiring and circuit boards exposed and bent over the mess, frowning. "Does it mean anything to you?" Sam asked._ _

__"I'm going to have a long talk with Stark when we get back," she muttered. "This damn thing needs instructions, or at least colour-coding." Although they had been resting for several minutes now, her breathing was still fast and shallow. It was a bad sign, but Sam didn't think he would achieve anything by pointing it out. He handed her the water bottle instead. She took a swallow and passed it back to him. It was nearly empty now. He didn't drink._ _

__More minutes ticked agonisingly past as Natasha stripped wires and wound them together. The light snow had stopped sometime back without Sam noticing. He thought of how long it had been since the attack from the not-dogs, and kept expecting the helicopter to circle back at any moment._ _

__When it finally did, it was almost a relief. Almost. "What's your status?" he asked._ _

__Natasha looked up quickly, started to sway, and caught herself by a pure effort of will. "It might work," she said._ _

__"Might?" Sam demanded._ _

__She shook her head slightly. "That's all I've got."_ _

__"I'll take it." He put the casing back on, pressing the last of the water on her. She drank it greedily, not seeming to notice that he hadn't had any. "I think."_ _

__At last, the ghost of a smile. "The risk's on me too. At least if we both die I won't have to face Steve."_ _

__Sam chuckled. "Well, I'm game if you are." He eyed her more critically. "Will you be able to hang on?"_ _

__She dropped something into his hand. Three carabiners. "Probably not."_ _

__That neatly solved the problem he'd been privately most worried about. Maybe she _was_ capable of admitting her limits after all._ _

__The sound of the rotors grew louder as they forced themselves to stand once more. Sam, wings back in place, used the carabiners to clip Natasha to him at belt and shoulder. He was trying not to lean on her too much, but his leg would barely support his weight at all now._ _

__"Go!" Natasha abruptly shouted, and Sam looked wildly round in time to see another pack of not-dogs come bursting out of the trees, growling their horrible reverberating bass._ _

__Sam pushed off from the ground. Sharp teeth sliced at his ankle and he kicked blindly. The jaws let go, and with their arms tight around each other he and Natasha punched up through the needle-filled canopy._ _

__No fancy manoeuvres this time. It was hard enough to drag the wings further open so that he could bank out of the ascent. He fought to turn south, and once he'd finally managed it he locked onto the bearing._ _

__The helicopter was behind them. He almost allowed himself to think they'd escaped notice when the sound of its rotors whirred up a notch in pursuit. Evasive patterns were probably beyond Natasha's field repair job, and he didn't want to risk falling out of the sky again. Though if another bullet found him, it would be inevitable…_ _

__Gritting his teeth, he pushed the wings to their maximum speed. He wouldn't be able to hear gunfire over the rotors; impossible to know whether or not he was being fired at. If they were relying on the not-dogs then the helicopter might not be equipped with heavy ordinance._ _

__The second helicopter came dropping down sharply from above the cloud cover, dead ahead. _This_ one was definitely armed, some sort of nose-mounted cannon pointing directly at Sam. He yelled in alarm and tried to swerve, but the wings only began to turn agonisingly slowly. He wouldn't make it._ _

__The cannon fired. Sam flinched as the missile whipped right past him — he felt he could feel its air current — and a moment later he was being tossed forward on a shockwave as the pursuing helicopter exploded in midair. The sound was loud enough to hurt his ears, and he could feel the heat of it on his back._ _

__He still couldn't alter his course. But that was okay, the forward helicopter was moving into position to intercept, and so for the second time in his life he entered a helicopter high above the ground at high speed. At least this was a larger helicopter than the last one, and he had some degree of braking ability left._ _

__He hit the metal floor at a tumble, his legs giving way immediately as the wings retracted — at least _that_ function still worked. Natasha was a dead weight, tangling with him as they slithered to a stop. _ _

__"Sam!" A hand on his shoulder pressed urgently, and Sam blinked away the pain of impact to look up at Steve._ _

__"What took so long?" he wheezed._ _

__"Sorry," Steve said. He looked both sorry and scared as his hands moved down Sam's front to unclip the carabiners, movements fast but careful. "Hey, Nat? Are you with me?"_ _

__"She's been shot," Sam said. "Lost a lot of blood." He struggled up onto his elbows, but someone in a medic's uniform immediately appeared from behind him, pressing him down again. He fought back, annoyed. "I can sit up, dude!"_ _

__Steve lifted Natasha carefully away, and laid her down on a stretcher which another medic had just set out. He crouched beside her, using a sterile wipe to gently clean the blood from her face._ _

__Sam could hear her voice in his head. _Steve will kill me if I don't get you back in one piece…_ It went both ways. They all shouldered responsibility for protecting each other, and he wasn't the team rookie any more._ _

__Steve returned while Sam was enduring an IV line being inserted into his forearm. Having won the argument with the medic, he sat propped against the wall while his leg was splinted and some of the worst bites and scratches were cleaned with antiseptic. His participation wasn't required — in fact, his body seemed to have very little to do with him any more. "Can you give me your mission report?" Steve asked, sitting himself down beside him._ _

__Sam gave him what he suspected was a slightly muddled version, as the effects of the adrenaline come-down and whatever painkillers were in the IV began to kick in. Steve sat close enough that their shoulders kept bumping together, which they both feigned not to notice. They could also both see Natasha, on her side so that her medic could access the bullet wound, hooked up to both clear and blood-dark IVs._ _

__"You did good," Steve said, when Sam's store of words ran out. "That was a tough situation to get out of."_ _

__Sam shrugged. "Natasha got the wings working." Otherwise they would have been ripped to shreds. Neither of them had been in a fit state to go for a second round with HYDRA's not-dogs._ _

__"Yeah, and you got the both of you in the air on them."_ _

__"Teamwork," Natasha's voice murmured. Both men looked up sharply, but her eyes didn't open and she gave every indication of still being unconscious. Except for, maybe, a hint of a smile._ _

__"There, you heard her," Steve said, bumping almost-accidentally against Sam's arm again. "Teamwork."_ _


End file.
